


A New Dawn

by Catw00man, Zippit



Series: Promise Filled Sky [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Another Road Traveled Universe, Community: au_bigbang, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catw00man/pseuds/Catw00man, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zippit/pseuds/Zippit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An impromptu "assignment" to Xerxes reveals Maria Ross' true fate and leaves Ed seething with humiliation and anger. He returns to Central, determined to confront Mustang for the insult, but instead finds him in the hospital with another homunculi attack looming overhead. Can he and Roy learn to work together or will their differences continue to divide them?</p><div class="center">
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  </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [Another Road Traveled](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Another_Road_Traveled) collection and is the first part of the verse. Please see that collection for all other works connected with this story.
> 
> We had the good fortune to be teamed up with the very talented artist [**Onaxe**](http://onaxe.livejournal.com/) who created a beautiful header for this story as well as two other gorgeous artworks that can be seen at the end of chapters one and two. To see the entire art post and to leave comments please go [here](http://onaxe.livejournal.com/9168.html). Thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> Written for the 2012 round of [au_bigbang](http://au_bigbang.livejournal.com).  
> 

Ed slams open the double doors of the military hospital, oblivious to the stares he attracts. Stares are something he’s used to so a few extra don’t mean a thing. All he’s concerned with right now is finding the bastard Colonel and getting a better idea of what’s going on. He’d like to wrap his hands around his throat for putting Al in danger, but considering Al says he saved him he probably can’t justify actually doing it.

He fists his automail hand and scuffs his boots along the polished tile floor. Hospital or not the damn bastard has to be smug and satisfied about taking down a homunculus on his own after sending Ed all the way to Xerxes. That alone is enough for him to want to put a fist in his face.

He still can’t believe the bastard managed to pull one over on him so completely, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Acting like a cold, calculating jackass is what Mustang’s good at after all. He should’ve known not to take things at face value even with a smoldering “body” in front of him. Mustang’s much too manipulative to be so obvious. Stupid bastard. He had to do everything _his_ way, and now he ends up in the hospital like an idiot who’s obviously not as invincible as he likes to pretend to be.

Ed storms up to the nurses’ desk and crosses his arms impatiently. Several people are waiting in front of him and he doesn’t have time for this. They’re all old and slow and annoying. Could they talk any slower? He doesn’t care if one misplaced their grandson or some harried looking lady just got here after work looking for her daughter. Whatever, they just need to move! He and Al need to figure out how to get his body out of the Gate before it’s too late. They need to figure out why the homunculi see them as sacrifices. They need to know what’s going on and all this waiting around isn’t getting them anywhere. Mustang has to know something, and while he’s here maybe Ed can try and make him as miserable as the hot sun and desert made him. That would be equivalent exchange after all.

Finally the last person in front of him moves away with a slip of paper in hand and Ed steps forward to the desk that’s annoyingly taller than it needs to be. He takes a breath to rein in his already frayed temper. There’s no point in taking his annoyance out on the nurse. Though if he did, it would most definitely be the bastard’s fault. He forces a smile as he addresses the brunette nurse whose demeanor indicates she’s all business. “I’m looking for Colonel Mustang. I was told I could find him here.”

The nurse looks him over then turns to consult a stack of charts. She picks one up, studies it, and after a moment looks back to Ed with a bored expression. “I’m sorry, sir, but only those with the proper credentials are allowed to see the Colonel.”

Ed’s patience reaches its limit and he rolls his eyes. Is she kidding? He pulls out his silver pocket watch and dangles it in front of her face. “Is this good enough? I’m a State Alchemist. Now, could you _please_ tell me where the bas—where Colonel Mustang’s room is?”

The nurse looks unfazed as she answers him. “I know who you are, Major Elric, but unless you have a reason to see the Colonel, I can’t let you go to his room.”

Ed blinks and his mouth opens in surprise. Is she serious? What the hell is going on that has them trying this hard to protect his ass?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ed spins around and surveys the waiting area filled with the usual faded pink chairs and couches found in all the military hospitals. He scowls and barely resists kicking the floor. He could just go looking for the bastard, it’s not like he isn’t familiar with the hospital from all the times he’s been admitted. Mustang’s probably in the north wing where all the higher ranked military are kept. But now that he’s made his intentions known this lady probably won’t let him roam the halls. Why the hell did he decide asking at the front desk was a good idea? He sighs and considers his options. He could try going outside and transmuting a door. If he picked an area that’s vacant no one would probably—

Wait. Is that who he thinks it is? Ed grins and takes a few steps away from the desk to cut off the man quickly coming from the north wing. 

“Hey, Falman. I need your help.” Ed grabs Falman by the arm and drags him toward the desk. He can tell he caught him off guard because he hasn’t even found the words to protest. Ed reaches the desk and waves to get the woman’s attention again. “Hey, you can ask him. He’ll tell you it’s ok to let me go find Mustang.” Ed looks expectantly to Falman who’s standing board straight and looking at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have that authority.”

Ed lets out an exasperated sigh and looks down the nearest hall. It’s not too crowded. Maybe he can transmute his way in there from the outside, if the MPs or someone else don’t spot him first and try and stop him.

“However….” Ed looks up to see Falman’s turned his attention to the nurse who’s obviously tired of this discussion. “Regulation 9-47c states that in a situation like this a soldier under the direct command of the person in question may have an audience with his superior officer if he recently returned from a mission of great importance." Falman turns his head to Ed again and his face betrays no emotion, though Ed swears there’s a trace of amusement in his eyes. “I believe you just returned from one such mission, Major?”

Ed’s eyes widen with realization and a broad grin spreads across his face. Who knew Falman had something like this in him? He turns back toward the nurse and rests his forearm up on the desk, leaning forward a bit. “Yeah, that’s right. That regulation 47 or whatever.” He nods and grins even more. “So, I need to tell Mustang about my important mission. Now what room’s he in?”

The nurse looks less than pleased, but Falman doesn’t waver under her stare and apparently he knows what he’s talking about because she’s consulting the chart again. “If you had mentioned the regulation in the first place, this wouldn’t have been an issue.” She gives Ed a pointed look and he can tell she knows exactly what’s going on, but she doesn’t argue. “You can find him in the north hall, room 8.” She looks over a note on the chart and then adds, “Lieutenant Havoc is in the east hall, room 33.”

Ed blinks and stares at her for a moment. Second Lieutenant Havoc is here? Why didn’t Al mention he was in the hospital as well? Ed looks to Falman who as usual gives away nothing. It seems he’ll be needing even more information from the bastard than he thought. He looks back to the nurse and mutters his thanks. He could try asking Falman about more of the details, but what’s the point when he can go find out for himself? He turns to stride down the north hall and for the first time since he heard Mustang was in the hospital he actually starts to feel a little concerned.

He shakes his head and scowls. He doesn’t need to be worried about Mustang, or his men. Of all the people he knows, no one should be able to take care of themselves more than Mustang. Al said the battle was “intense,” but that was probably just the Colonel showing off his flashy flame alchemy. He could make anything look spectacular. So…why doesn’t he believe that? Maybe because he fought Greed and saw firsthand how unkillable those homunculi monsters tend to be? But they have weaknesses. He saw it himself, though he wasn’t able to exploit them as much as Mustang obviously did.

Ed grumbles to himself as he rounds a corner in the nearly empty hallway. The only people he’s seen so far in this wing are military guards and doctors. The hushed quiet down the long corridor is kinda creepy and very different than the usual bustle he’s accustomed to in hospitals. Apparently it really is hard to gain access to these rooms. He should remember to thank Falman sometime. He’s scuffing his boots along the spotless floor again when he spots Hawkeye at the end of the hall. He notices the room she’s standing in front of is near a stairwell and he wouldn’t be surprised if that was deliberate. She’s always been nothing if not cautious.

He tries to wipe some of the aggravation off his face as he approaches her because he knows how protective she can be. There’s no way she’ll let him see the bastard if she thinks he’s going to throttle him. Once he gets closer he’s surprised to see exhaustion plain on her face. Has she not gotten any sleep lately? Surely others could watch the Colonel’s room. But her weary stance belies the possibility as does the coffee cup clutched in her hand like a shield.

“Lieutenant,” he says respectfully as that tiny seed of worry begins to blossom once more. It’s only Mustang. The man’s as invincible as they come, so he shouldn’t be worried, right?

“Edward. It’s nice to see you’re back in town.” She shifts slightly on her feet, but ever the consummate soldier that’s the only indication of her discomfort. Regardless, it’s easy to see she hasn’t rested probably since Mustang was admitted. They really must be worried. But what about Havoc? Surely someone has him under guard as well?

“Haven’t been for long.” He glances at the door behind her then back at Hawkeye. “Can I go in?” he smirks lightly and tries to lighten the mood a bit. “I promise I’ll be nice.”

Hawkeye’s mouth thins and Ed instantly regrets his attempt at humor. “He’s sleeping right now, Edward. But you can go in….” She gives him a pointed look before moving to the side of the door. “As long as you don’t wake him.”

Well that’s not going to help speed things along. He scowls but nods anyway. Hopefully the bastard won’t sleep too long. “Alright. I won’t.” he moves forward, his hand on the door to push it open, but then pauses and speaks softly. “What about Lieutenant Havoc?” He shouldn’t be concerning himself. Mustang will take care of all his subordinates.

“Lieutenant Breda’s watching over him.” She pauses and did he hear a hitch in her breathing? “We’re still waiting for him to wake up.”

Ed snaps his head to the side to look at her and he doesn’t miss the flash of concern in her eyes before she hides it away. She’s scared. Havoc’s apparently not out of the woods and if Breda’s guarding him they must be worried about his safety too. He and Al guessed the military had to be involved with the homunculi, but they’re acting like this is much bigger than they realized. He just assumed with Al and Hawkeye being okay that they all would be….

“I’m sorry, I-I’ll just….” His words fail him and he finally just ends up shaking his head as he opens the door and pushes inside. He didn’t miss the sympathetic look she sent him and he doesn’t need it. She obviously has better places for her concern, not to mention…this is all his fault. If he and Al hadn’t brought them into this, General Hughes would still be alive and Havoc and Mustang wouldn’t be in the hospital. How many more people are they going to hurt because of their recklessness?

Ed steps into the room and stops short the instant he sees him. He hears the door softly snick shut behind him and he has to force himself to take a breath. He knew Mustang was injured. Al told him he’d sealed some wound on his side by burning it so he expected bandages over his torso, but those are covered by his light blue hospital shirt. His right hand’s also bandaged, but none of those wounds are what stopped him in his tracks. He looks pale, his dark hair a sharp contrast to his lighter than usual skin. He’s thinner than Ed remembered too and that’s not something that would’ve resulted from the fight under the Third Laboratory. What has Mustang been doing to himself? And why does he care?

Damn bastard. He never should’ve gotten involved in this. None of them should’ve. He moves further into the room as quietly as he can and inwardly curses his heavy metal limbs. Stealth has never been his strong suit. Ed makes his way to the wooden chair at the foot of the bed and fists his hands once he sits down. The faint worry he’s felt ever since stepping into the hospital multiples by the minute and it makes him sick. This is the last person he wants to be worried about, but he doesn’t want to be responsible for his injuries either. If only they hadn’t gotten General Hughes involved. If only this idiot hadn’t sent him away maybe none of this would’ve even hap—

“If all you’re going to do is sit there and brood, you don’t need to be here, Fullmetal.”

Ed jerks his head up to find the bastard’s eyes open and staring straight at him. Whatever weakness he might’ve thought he’d seen when he was sleeping is gone and the idiot’s even trying to push himself into more of a sitting position. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?” he hisses and glances at the door. The last thing he needs is Hawkeye storming in here and accusing him of upsetting the bastard.

“I’m surprised you’re here.” The mocking tone in his voice has Ed gritting his teeth to hold his tongue. “It’s not like you to willingly step foot into a hospital.” Mustang smirks that arrogant fucking smirk of his and Ed can barely contain himself. “You usually have to be carried in.”

“Bastard,” he finally spits out. The look of satisfaction on Mustang’s face nearly has him going with his earlier idea of ramming his fist into his face, but somehow he maintains control. “I just got back from being _kidnapped_ to the East and thought I’d come by and see if you’d actually learned anything besides how to blow yourself up.”

“Just got back, hmm?” Mustang arches an eyebrow and irritatingly ignores the whole damn point which makes Ed seethe with rage. “So, I suppose that explains the tardiness of your report.”

“My….” He thinks about the ruse he used to get in here and there’s no way the bastard could know about it. There’s no way. He narrows his eyes and glares at him. He’s just giving him shit to give him shit. “That’s beside the point. Why didn’t you tell me what you were planning?” He jumps out of his chair and to his feet, clenching his fists again. “I’m not just some stupid, hot headed kid! I could’ve helped!”

“I’m sorry, Fullmetal, I don’t usually make a habit of running my actions through my subordinates.” Ed fumes but before he can say anything else Mustang continues in an annoyingly superior tone. “Actually, the way you’re acting right now proves my point.” He gives him a pointed look and Ed snarls as he drops back down into the chair. Silence stretches out between them and Ed fidgets, knowing the bastard’s doing it on purpose. 

“Is that so?” he finally grits out between clenched teeth.

“Yes. It is.” Mustang holds his gaze for another moment and it’s all Ed can do to stay in the chair and not strangle the bastard. “You and Armstrong give far too much away when you’re trying to hide something.” Ed’s eyes widen and he literally has to bite his tongue. How dare he compare him to that emotional, overblown, muscle-bound freak?! “Armstrong’s reaction had to be real. As for you…you weren’t supposed to be involved. That’s quite an annoying habit of yours.”

“Not involv—” Ed shakes his head angrily and he’s out of the chair again in an instant, pacing at the end of the bastard’s bed. “That’s shit, Mustang.” He whips his head around, pausing his movement to glare at him. “ _You’re_ the one who shouldn’t be involved. _You’re_ the one who butted in. Al and I were doing just fine without you.”

“And I supposed ‘just fine’ includes ending up in a hospital down South?” Mustang’s voice takes that superior lilt to it again and Ed can’t contain himself. It’s too much. 

“Look who’s talking, you pompous jackass!” Ed paces again and practically snarls at him. “So what about you? It’s not like you to be getting your hands dirty and lazing in a hospital bed when someone else could do it for you!”

Mustang gives him a withering look as he smoothes his fingers over the bandage on his right hand. “As much as I value your _little_ tantrums, is this really the place for this?”

Ed bares his teeth in a grimace and shoots a look at the door. He’s surprised the Lieutenant hasn’t already come in and dragged him out by his hair. He meant to keep his cool. He really did, but somehow all logic goes out the window when it comes to this superior bastard. In all the years he’s been in the military and under Mustang’s command he still doesn’t understand how the bastard gets to him so much. “No,” he huffs out and stalks back to the chair. He drops down into it again and thinks about what started this whole thing in the first place. “Nice to see how much you actually trust me though.”

Mustang lets out a long, put upon sigh and looks at Ed with a weary expression. “I know you’re a special case, Fullmetal. In more ways than one. But I really do wish they had sent you to the military academy.” Mustang folds his hands in his lap as he continues to talk to him in a slow, even tone as if he were a child. “There are some things about being in the military you have no idea about. Like I told you before, you do not question a superior officer. Your job is to follow orders and if you’d attended the academy, this insolence would not be an issue right now.”

Ed blinks as the ensuing silence stretches out between them. He knows there were about six different insults in his little speech even if he can’t put his finger on every one. He stares back at him, his jaw working as he tries to find words and he finally lands on the one thing he and Al will never be able to forgive him for. “Is that why you didn’t bother telling us about General Hughes until it was too late for us to attend the funeral?”

There’s a glint of something in Mustang’s eyes and for a split second Ed’s sure he’s gone too far. But, no, the bastard deserves it for treating him like a damn child. Mustang’s eyes harden to a barely contained fury and Ed sits up straighter, holding his ground even as Mustang’s voice drips with rage.

“You narcissistic little twit. When are you going to realize the world does not—” Mustang stops, looks down, and takes a deliberate breath before pinning Ed with his hard stare again. “We had no way of knowing your precise location. Even if we did, by the time you returned to Central it would’ve been too late.” Mustang relaxes slightly, his usual arrogance taking over. “I would think you’d agree postponing General Hughes’ funeral on your behalf would have been an undue hardship on his wife and daughter.”

Ed glares back at him, not wanting to be the first to look away, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Mustang wasn’t even listening. Ed pushes out of the chair and snorts. “I don’t know why I bother.” Ed turns for the door and raises a hand in a sarcastic farewell. “I’m outta here.”

“And where do you think you’re going, Fullmetal?” Ed pauses with his hand on the doorknob to look back over his shoulder, deliberately rolling his eyes as he does. “You still haven’t given me your report about your trip East.”

For the second time in this ridiculous conversation Ed stares at him in disbelief. Is he serious? Lieutenant Breda and Major Armstrong came back ahead of him. Mustang has to know exactly what happened. He always does. He was the one who sent him out there in the first place! But he knows any argument at this point is only going to prolong the torture so he yanks his hand away from the knob then turns sharply to face Mustang. He crosses his arms and braces his feet apart in as much of an insubordinate stance as he can manage then stares up at the ceiling as he rattles off his “report.”

“As you know Armstrong took me out to Resembool where we met up with Breda. He dragged us out to the middle of nowhere where we had a lovely little meeting in the sweltering heat. I ran into some Ishvallans who attempted to take me hostage for all the sins of Amestris then we headed back to Resembool where I visited my family for a few days.” He turns his eyes to Mustang and scowls at the “all business” look on his face. “Is that a sufficient enough report for you, Colonel, _sir?_ ”

Mustang folds his hands in his lap and Ed doesn’t know how, but he gets the feeling Mustang’s looking down at him even though he’s still sitting in bed. Stupid, smug bastard. He can already see the smirk forming on his lips.

“In part. But you neglected to mention your visitor in Resembool.” Mustang tilts his head and that smug smile makes its full presence known. “Who was that blond man standing over your mother’s grave anyway, Fullmetal?”

Rage burns through Ed, hot and wild, and he clenches his fists so tight his automail one creaks from the pressure. He tries to shoot daggers at Mustang with his eyes and in this moment he knows he’d actually hurt him if he could. The bastard always does this, testing him and spying on him all the fucking time. He has no right. Not this time and he spits out with as much venom as he can muster, “I hate you.”

“That’s really not the point, now is it?” Mustang’s smile fades and Ed recognizes the look of determination on his face. He won’t let this go. Ed knows he could storm out, but he has a sick feeling he’d never make it out of the hospital without being pulled back to face this particular torture.

“What’s it matter?” Ed shrugs angrily and crosses his arms again. “You probably already know anyway.” And that’s when he sees it. That little tick by Mustang’s eye. He’s trying to act like he has all the damn answers, but he _doesn’t_. And he probably couldn’t find them even if he wanted them. The very thought brings a slight smirk to his own lips.

“As much as you may like to believe it, I’m not all seeing and all knowing, Fullmetal.” Mustang pauses, obviously for emphasis but it only makes Ed roll his eyes. The bastard continues to stare at him and finally Ed sighs and relents.

“Fine. If you _must_ know, while I was in Resembool, I did some…research and I was able to determine, that….” His arms fall to his sides and he looks down at the white floor tiles. He hates talking about this, but while he was in Xerxes Lieutenant Breda did fill him in on all the intelligence they’d collected. It’s only fair he does the same, even if he fucking hates it. “The thing we transmuted…it wasn’t Mom.”

Ed hears Mustang’s sharp intake of breath but he doesn’t lift his head. He doesn’t want to see sympathy or pity on his face. They don’t share things like that and he’s not about to start now. He scuffs the toe of his boot along the floor and shoves his hands in his pockets. “So? Can I go now?”

“What about the man?”

Ed squeezes his eyes shut for a moment then jerks his head back to toss his long bangs out of his face. “It was my worthless, bastard of a father, okay?” He finally directs his gaze back to Mustang who at least isn’t looking smug anymore. “Happy now?”

“I’m sorry, Edward.”

Ed looks away again and scowls. The warm flush of embarrassment, always accompanied by anger when it comes to his deadbeat father, flares through him. This needs to be over. _Now._ “Don’t. Just don’t.” He doesn’t sound like he’s mocking him, but it still doesn’t mean he wants to hear it from him. It’s weird coming from Mustang. He shrugs and tries to change the subject. There’s still things he needs to know, if he can get the bastard to tell him. “So, you find out anything else?”

Mustang doesn’t answer at first and Ed’s guts twist up inside. Please, don’t start with the pity shit. He’s never gotten that from Mustang and he doesn’t want it now. He looks back at him again and thankfully the unfamiliar soft look has left Mustang’s eyes and he can see he’s all business again. Good. Maybe they can finally get somewhere without killing each other.

“I was referred to as a sacrifice. Your brother informed me that both of you have heard the same thing before?”

Mustang shifts on the bed, his hand going briefly to his side and it reminds Ed exactly why he’s here and how he looked when he first came in. Now the homunculi want to “sacrifice” him as well? Ed shakes his head and takes a few steps closer. He needs to stop this. It’s bad enough he and Al are wrapped up in this shit, but they started it back in the Fifth Laboratory. He glances up to see the weariness Mustang’s trying to hide and it’s too much. He may be a bastard but he doesn’t want to be attending his funeral, or visiting his grave site next.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ed shakes his head slowly as he looks him in the eye again. “Like I told you before, you shouldn’t be involved in this. None of you should. Al and I can—”

“The hell you can.” Ed flinches back at the sudden look of malice in Mustang’s eyes. He sits up straight but Ed doesn’t miss his wince.

“Well, you’re obviously not up to it.” Ed waves his hand in the direction of his injured left side and Mustang’s glare intensifies. “Don’t look at me that way. It’s your bastard ass that apparently needs more protecting than expected!”

Mustang’s voice drops about ten degrees and it’s all Ed can do not to flinch back. “Have you forgotten I’m the _only_ one who’s successfully dealt with one of the subjects in question?”

“And we can see how well that worked out.” He snorts and is about to turn for the door again when Mustang suddenly leans forward and snatches his left wrist in a vice grip. Ed’s eyes widen. He didn’t think he could lean forward so much, much less move that fast. Mustang’s dark look locks on Ed and he doesn’t even try to pull away.

“The only reason I’m in this hospital bed is because I underestimated my opponent.” His hand tightens on Ed’s wrist as his voice grows even lower and more dangerous. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Ed tugs at his wrist but Mustang doesn’t release it. He sighs and turns more toward him. Why can’t this be fucking over? Hasn’t Mustang already gotten what he wanted? “Good to hear. And thanks for taking one of them out. One less for me to deal with.”

“Damn it, Fullmetal, you’re not listening to me. This is bigger than you. This is bigger than all of us.” Ed gives him a bored look and rolls his eyes to look toward the door. If Mustang thinks one of his doom and gloom, bigger purpose speeches is gonna work on him now, then he’s stupid. He’s heard it all before. “You arrogant, little shit. Why do you think this is only about you? This all happened underneath a military installation. We’d be fighting this threat with or without you.”

“You don’t know that!” Ed finally yanks his arm away and Mustang scowls as he slowly leans back against the pillows behind him. “If it wasn’t for me and Al pursuing the damn Stone we wouldn’t have run into them at the Fifth Laboratory! If we hadn’t done that then maybe General Hughes—”

A knock at the door silences him and sends a chill through him. They shouldn’t be discussing this here. When Bradley met with him, Al, and Hughes, he told them not to discuss these things with anyone. Damn Mustang for making him lose his temper. He looks back to see the door opening and lets out the breath he was holding when Lieutenant Hawkeye pokes her head inside the room.

“Sir, you should be resting, not shouting for the rest of the floor to hear. And Edward….” Her eyes turn from the Colonel to him and Ed ducks his head at the reproachful look she sends him. “I thought I told you not to wake the Colonel.”

“I didn’t! The bastard did it on his own.” She frowns at his words and Ed winces and looks down. She has a way of looking at him that reminds him too much of the way his mother would look when she was disappointed in him. He shoves his hands in his pockets again and mumbles softer. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

“See to it you don’t take much longer. The Colonel needs his rest.”

Ed turns his eyes up slightly to see her sending a glance Mustang’s direction. She nods in response to some silent cue from him and Ed shakes his head. Their stupid looks and blind devotion. They all act this way and Ed’s never understood it. Why do they blindly trust him so damn much?

“Edward, I think this does need to be the end of our conversation.”

He turns his head to see Mustang glancing around the room significantly and he gets it. They shouldn’t have said as much as they already have, especially being in Central. The last time he got into this discussion in a hospital someone ended up getting killed. He won’t let that happen again regardless of what the bastard says.

“Alright. You get your rest or whatever.” Ed shrugs and walks toward the door. He and Al need to figure out what the homunculi are trying to do and why they’ve added Mustang to their list of “sacrifices.” Maybe if they could get their hands on one….

“Fullmetal.”

Ed stops at the door and looks back, distracted. They need more information and he’s not going to find it standing around here talking. He needs to _do_ something. “Yeah?”

“Let’s finish our talk tomorrow. I believe there’s a little more light I can shed on the problem.”

Ed’s eyes widen and he grits his teeth. He should’ve known the bastard was holding out on him. He lets out an irritated snort then nods. Apparently they’ll be staying in Central a little longer than he thought. “Fine. Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that he turns on his heel and storms out the door. He needs to talk to Al and figure some of this out. Maybe he can get back down underneath the lab and see if he can find something. One way or another, he’s not going to let anyone else get hurt because of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> As this was written for au_bigbang, we had the pleasure of working with the wonderful **[Onaxe](http://onaxe.livejournal.com/)**  
>  who created the above artwork illustrating a moment in this chapter. To see the entire art post and to leave comments please go [here](http://onaxe.livejournal.com/9168.html). Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you, Colonel Mustang. Thank you. I can’t possibly thank you enough for saving my son.”

“Please, no thanks are necessary, Mrs. Havoc. I was doing my duty. I have no doubt Jean would’ve done the same for me.” But he shouldn’t have had to. They shouldn’t even be having this conversation, especially considering Havoc’s injuries are his fault. Roy grips the phone receiver tighter. Havoc’s still unconscious in the intensive care ward because of _his_ miscalculation. No matter what happens, that will always be his responsibility.

“Oh, but you’re wrong, Colonel. When my son wakes up I know he’ll tell you himself. Jean’s always respected you so much.” Her voice is so certain it makes Roy’s insides twist in discomfort. There’s so much trust in her voice it grates against the raw edges of his guilt. He should’ve done a better job protecting him. It’s that simple.

“I look forward to it. Please, do keep us updated on his condition, and if there’s anything I can do don’t hesitate to ask.” His words are a formality and he knows it. One of them has been on guard with Havoc at all times since he was injured. Breda’s there now, he’s been there a lot, but they’ve each taken a turn with the exception of himself and Hawkeye. He’s fairly certain she’d like that to be different, but right now she’ll hardly leave his side. It was all he could do to get her to go home when he went to his against doctor's orders to sleep in his own bed last night.

“I will. I will. Thank you again, Colonel.”

The other end of the call disconnects, but Roy doesn’t immediately hang up the phone. He didn’t expect this conversation to be his first upon returning to work, but it couldn’t be avoided and he wouldn’t try. Until he knows for certain Havoc will be alright he’ll do whatever he can for his family. The doctors say he should wake up soon, that his body needs time to recover from so much blood loss, but every additional day weighs heavy on him. It’s why he asked Hawkeye to get his uniform shortly after Ed left yesterday. It’s time they get back to work, especially since it doesn’t seem like a retaliatory attack is imminent.

He hangs up the phone and rests his hand on the receiver. When he lost consciousness after incinerating the homunculus, he seriously wondered if he’d ever wake up again. His transit to the hospital would’ve been the perfect opportunity for whoever’s in change of the homunculi to take him out with minimal fuss. With each passing day that becomes less and less of a possibility, but that still doesn’t mean they can let their guards down. The Third Laboratory is part of the military, which means whatever was going on there was too.

“Sir?”

Roy shakes himself out of his thoughts and nods in response to Hawkeye’s prompting. He glances at Falman waiting by the door of his private office holding several large, rolled papers. “Are those the maps?”

“Yes, sir,” he nods with his usual efficiency and moves closer to the desk. Roy nods and watches as he carefully spreads them out over the recently cleared surface.

Roy glances over to Fuery who’s moving around the room and waving around some piece of electronic equipment he recently devised. Roy doesn’t exactly know how it works, but he doesn’t care as long as it does. “How are we looking, Sergeant?”

Fuery’s head turns toward Roy and he relaxes a fraction when he sees his exuberant smile. “I was just finishing up, sir. The room’s clear. We should be able to talk freely for now.”

Roy nods and favors him with a slight smile. “Well done, Kain.” It’s much easier to have this meeting in a “proper” venue. It’ll draw less attention this way, but he had to make sure no one was listening in. Thankfully his subordinates are infinitely resourceful. “Alright then. Let’s get on with—”

He pauses and they all look toward the closed door at the sound of familiar footsteps. There's no mistaking that uneven sounding gait for its uniqueness and the fact that no one else makes quite as much noise. Roy suppresses a smile as the steps grow louder and he silently counts down in his head: Three…Two…One….

The door flies open and on the other side is a very annoyed looking young alchemist. Ed storms through the doorway and Roy doesn’t miss the way Falman flinches when Ed slams the door shut behind him. His scowl’s deeply etched on his face and Roy can guess why, though to be honest, he hardly expected him to follow his request from yesterday. He can count on one hand the times he’s been this prompt on following orders.

“You could’ve told me you wouldn’t still be in the hospital, you damn bastard. I spent all morning trying to find your sorry a—”

Ed’s tirade comes to an abrupt end and Roy’s momentarily puzzled until he glances to his side and sees the stern look on Hawkeye’s face. He’s always been amused at how she’s the only one able to make Fullmetal kowtow to expectation, though even she can’t keep him completely in line. Still, it’s entertaining nevertheless.

“I’m sorry, Fullmetal, but wasn’t it you who was saying I really shouldn’t be ‘lazing in bed’ when there were things to be done?” He feels more than sees Hawkeye’s disapproval radiating from beside him and he grins slightly when Ed reacts to it exactly as he expected. Ed ducks his head and Roy pushes his advantage. “I assumed if you actually did decide to follow my orders you’d be able to find me.”

Ed bristles under his words but as he starts to scowl he glances to Roy’s right again and ends up rubbing the back of his neck instead. “Yeah, alright, fine. So, did you actually find something out, or did I waste my time ‘following orders?’”

Roy smirks at his unique balance of toeing the line while stomping all over it. He learned a long time ago he gets a lot further with Fullmetal by ignoring his not so subtle insults and disrespect than by attempting to force him to fit the mold. The latter usually ends in nothing but more willful insubordination and gets them nowhere. This way he’ll end up mildly entertained and get the benefit of his extraordinary young mind.

“Actually, we were just getting to that.” Roy motions to the maps of Central City before him and Ed quickly crosses the room to peer down at them. Roy glances over at Hawkeye and nods as she clasps her hands behind her to begin her “official” report.

“When we went into the Third Laboratory, I counted the number of steps it took to get to the basement and I was able to calculate the approximate location of the doorway where we battled the homunculus.” She leans forward to point at a circle on the map she and Falman were working on when he came in this morning. “It’s not an exact calculation, since the hallway was curved, but we were able to deduce a radius with the lab at the center.”

Roy nods and carefully leans forward himself. There’s no question it’s under Central Command, but he’d already guessed the military was involved when Barry’s body ran inside the laboratory. He knew there was a cover up starting with Hughes’ death and leading all the way up to the mock conviction of Maria Ross. But he didn’t foresee this.

“That’s the Presidential Estate,” Ed blurts out as he stabs the map with an automail finger. Leave it to Fullmetal to shout out the obvious. He snaps his head up to look at Roy, confusion and betrayal written all over his face.

“That it is.” Roy nods and continues in a softer voice still cautious of being overheard despite Fuery’s precautions. “Which means there’s a very real possibility the Fuhrer is involved.”

“What?” Ed takes a step back and angrily shakes his head. “That bastard. That explains why he told us to stay quiet about them.” He frowns and lifts a gloved hand to scratch his chin. “But not why he killed Greed and his group, though that never made much sense anyway. He should’ve interrogated them, not slaughtered them.”

Roy nods and smiles slightly at Ed’s logic. He thinks with more of a military mind than he realizes, not that he’d inform him of it. “You’re right, but many things the Fuhrer has done have never made sense.” He feels Hawkeye’s eyes on him but he ignores them. Now is not the time to be mincing words. “One thing’s for certain though, the enemy’s definitely infiltrated high up the chain of command so we’ll need to use extreme caution at all times.” His eyes land on Ed as he adds, “Is that understood, Fullmetal?”

Ed rolls his eyes and takes a step back from the desk. “Yeah, yeah, I got it, but it’s not like they couldn’t have done something to me last night if they’d wanted to.” He shrugs and crosses his arms as he shifts his weight backward in an arrogant stance. “Not that it mattered anyway.”

Roy frowns and glances between Hawkeye and his men but they all give him a blank look in return. He turns his gaze back to Ed and narrows his eyes slightly. “And what exactly did you do last night that could have warranted action? I thought I made it clear yesterday you weren’t to take any action of your own until we spoke again.”

“You said no such thing.” Ed's scowl deepens and Roy can already feel his blood starting to boil.

“I most certainly did.” Roy locks his gaze with Ed’s and puts both hands on the desk as he leans forward. They don’t have time for his antics right now. “But I guess I should’ve realized you’re incapable of picking up on subtlety. I should’ve spelled it out for you as if you were a _little_ chi—”

“Hey! Don’t call me lit—”

“Edward. Colonel. I believe this can wait.” Hawkeye pins them both with her piercing stare and Roy can’t believe he let his emotions take control so quickly. How Fullmetal is able to reduce him to this so rapidly he’ll never understand.

He briefly presses his hand to his left side and takes a cautious breath. Fuery may have made sure there were no listening devices in the room, but that precaution will all be for naught if people hear them shouting through the walls. He drops his hand from his side then focuses his attention on a more contrite looking Edward. “Fullmetal, would you mind enlightening us on what you discovered last night?”

“That’s all you had to s—” he starts but then apparently thinks better of his words. He uncrosses his arms then moves closer again to stare down at the map. “I went down to the Third Laboratory last night to have a look around. I wanted to see things with my own eyes.”

“You did what?!” Roy winces at the pull on his wound and forces himself to rein in his temper. How could he be so careless after everything that happened? The last thing he needs is Ed’s life on his conscience as well. “How did you even get inside?”

Ed shrugs and fishes his silver pocket watch out of his pocket by the chain and dangles it between them. “I just showed them this and they let me right in.” he shrugs again as he looks down at the watch. “Well, nearly anyway. Said I wanted a tour.” He snorts softly then looks to Roy as he pockets the watch. “It was actually easier than getting in the hospital to see you.”

“That was very reckless of you, Edward,” Hawkeye chides him softly and Ed at least has the decency to look a little chagrined. Roy doubts that would’ve been the case had he admonished him.

“Did you find anything?”

Roy glances over at Kain and smiles at his eager curiosity. He feels the same way, but he wouldn’t have been so obvious about showing it, particularly to Fullmetal.

“Nah, not really. Didn’t even come across a basement at all.” Murmurs of surprise fill the small room, but Roy would’ve expected as much. Nothing down there looked like something their enemy would be eager to have found, particularly the large doorway. “I did find a trace of hasty alchemy though.”

“Ahh, so we did catch them off guard.” Ed nods and Roy continues the train of thought. “If they could have emptied out whatever they didn’t want us to find they probably would have. The fact they’re hiding it means it must not be something they can easily move.”

Ed gives him a curious look then tilts his head, obviously in thought. “Maybe it’s not so much a thing, but a place?” He turns his attention to Roy again before continuing. “I talked to Al again and he said the homunculus started referring to him as a sacrifice after she found out that he’d….” Ed pauses and looks around seeming to remember the others in the room for the first time. It’s obvious this is something he doesn’t want to share and if it has to do with what Roy thinks it does it’s probably a good idea. “That his alchemy was so strong,” Ed amends and Roy realizes it’s time for this part of the meeting to end.

“That’s a definite possibility, Fullmetal.” He looks away from him and glances around the room to each of his subordinates in turn. “It looks like this situation could be bigger than I’d have ever envisioned. That means you’ll all need to be ready to work yourselves ragged. I trust I can count on each one of you?”

“Yes, sir!” is the combined response from everyone other than Ed.

Roy nods his approval then rolls up the maps and hands them to Hawkeye. She’ll take care of disposing them carefully. They don’t need anyone outside this room knowing what they’ve uncovered. “Alright then, back to work.”

Fuery and Falman head for the door with quick salutes and Ed moves off to the side. Well, at least he’s not trying to sneak out. They definitely need to continue their conversation. For the moment, however, he turns his attention to Hawkeye.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” Her words are as crisp as usual, but Roy can see the weariness around her eyes. He wonders if she didn’t follow his orders of a full night’s rest after all. He knows she wasn’t outside his house, so that only leaves one place.

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’d like you to ensure we’re immediately updated on any change in Lieutenant Havoc’s condition.” Hawkeye nods sharply and he continues before she can answer. “Also, Breda is probably due to be relieved.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be sure to take care of it, sir.” She moves toward the door, but Roy calls out before she reaches it.

“Oh, and Lieutenant?” She looks over her shoulder and he knows without a doubt if he ordered her home to rest she wouldn’t do it. But that doesn’t mean she can’t get any at all. “Make sure you make use of the hospital’s accommodations.”

Hawkeye doesn’t immediately respond and he knows from experience she’s weighing her options. If she turns down his request, he’s apt to follow it up with an imposed leave and she knows it. Roy can see the inner debate play over her face before she finally nods. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure to do that.”

Roy smiles as she leaves the room. At least she’ll get a little more rest than she will here. The wing Havoc’s in is for serious, life threatening injuries and as such has accommodations for friends and family members to rest while remaining near the injured party. She'll be able to get some sleep and still be immediately notified if there’s any change in his condition. It’s obvious now no one seems to be trying to injure him further, so the constant guard is more for their own peace of mind than for his protection.

“Well that was surprisingly considerate of you, bastard.” Roy looks over to see Ed stretched out on his office couch as if he actually had nowhere better to be. “I guess you might have a heart after all.” He digs the toe of his boot into the end of the couch as he adds, “She really was looking pretty rough, wasn’t she?”

“If you damage that couch, you’ll be the one to fix it.” Ed snorts as he sits up and Roy has to admit he’s a little surprised at his perceptiveness. There was a time Ed wasn’t capable of looking past the problem at hand to the people around him. The fact he completely saw through Roy’s orders is another surprise, but maybe Fullmetal is getting better than he thought at reading him. He’ll need to keep that in mind. “So, do you want to fill me in on what you were starting to say earlier?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ed throws his legs off the couch to sit normally and ends up resting his forearms on his thighs as he looks up at him. “It all goes back to when Al and I tried to bring Mom back.”

Roy starts at the revelation. It’s not something Ed’s ever wanted to discuss. For him to do it now must mean he’s figured something out, though he’s still a little surprised he’s willing to talk to _him_ about it. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Ed rubs the back of his neck with his left hand and stares down at the faded office carpet. He pauses and Roy has to force himself not to prod him to continue. “Yeah, when Al and I…when we did the transmutation, we opened a portal—”

“You what? A portal?” He knew they created something, something that apparently wasn’t their mother. Did this thing come through the portal? “What kind of portal?” What did you unlea—”

“If you’d shut up for a minute maybe I could tell you.” Ed’s scowling at him, his whole body tense, and once again Roy knows he’s pushing him too far. He’s never wanted to speak of this before and he’s obviously not going to stand for an interrogation, at least, not yet. Roy nods silently then moves around his desk so he can lean against the front edge. He crosses his arms and waits, without saying a word, and from the way Ed’s face softens he knows he made the right move.

“Anyway….” Ed looks down at his hands and slowly flexes the automail one. “It’s from going through the portal that we can do alchemy without a circle. Only those who’ve seen the ‘Truth’ can do it.” Ed fists his hand suddenly and sets his jaw. “Al said the homunculus told him he was a sacrifice _because_ he opened the portal. Now you’re saying you’re one as well and that leaves me to wonder….” He lifts his head slowly and pins Roy with his golden eyes. “Why would it say that, Colonel? Have you ever—”

“No.”

Ed arches an eyebrow and Roy easily reads the doubt on his face. He can understand it. He was the first one to find Ed and his brother after they tried human transmutation and he has kept their secret all these years. But the difference between the two of them is he’s long since understood something Ed may only now be starting to grasp. Death is permanent.

“Are you sure?”

“I think I would know if I’d ever encountered a portal or ‘Truth’ or whatever else you call it.” Ed continues to look skeptical and Roy looks him straight in the eye with none of his usual deceitful masks. “I’ve never done human transmutation, Edward. The closest I’ve ever come was in making the decoy for Maria Ross’ body and that was only a puppet. That’s the truth.”

Ed holds his gaze another moment then finally nods and relaxes a bit. He reaches up to tug at the end of his braid then cocks his head to the side. “Hmm, I guess that means they’re also looking for alchemists they think might be able to open the portal. Interesting….”

There’s something about the way he says “interesting” that has Roy’s expression turning into a frown. The fact he’s not looking at him confirms his assumption. Ed didn’t think he was capable. It shouldn’t wound him but it does. Ed’s an alchemical genius, how could he not realize…. Roy narrows his eyes angrily. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

Ed jumps, obviously startled by the directness of his question, and looks back at him. He shrugs carelessly and rubs his palms along his thighs and Roy has to suppress his growing annoyance. He wouldn’t feel this way were it not Fullmetal he was having this conversation with. He’s always downplayed his alchemic abilities with the exception of his flame alchemy. It’s probably why he was able to initially fry the homunculus. But he can’t help the fact part of him assumed Fullmetal would know better.

“I just mean that, sure, you’ve got that flashy fire stuff going on but I never thought….”

Ed drifts off and stares harder at him which instantly has Roy thinking he’s revealed too much. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Better for Ed to underestimate him, though he thinks it might be too late for that now.

“You bastard.” Roy can nearly see the wheels turning in Ed’s head as he no doubt puts together many instances he probably never noticed before. His eyes narrow, skewering him in place, as he jabs the air with a finger pointed at him. “You played me. You just wanted me to think that, that—”

“That I was a one trick pony?” Ed goes silent and Roy deliberately ignores the amused look on Ed’s face at his comment. He doesn’t even want to know. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Fullmetal. But I am, indeed, an alchemist despite the stars on my shoulders. I would’ve thought being the first to harness flame alchemy might’ve given you a clue.”

“Yeah, well,” Ed waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You’re always so wrapped up in orders and that stupid politics stuff it’s hard to remember.” His face grows serious and the light tone of his voice takes on a grave sound. “This does mean you’re a target now, just like me and Al. However, since you both survived it might mean they’ll want to keep you around.”

Roy nods slowly because _that_ was the piece he was missing. It explains why they haven’t been attacked again. But if he’s truly the only one they’re concerned with his subordinates could be at even more risk. He’ll need to take that into consideration as they move forward. He won’t have another incident like the one with Havoc if he can help it.

“That thing you mentioned earlier, about them not just cleaning out the basement?”

Roy shakes himself from his thoughts and turns his attention back to Ed. He’s sitting on the edge of the couch cushion now, his hands fisted on his knees. His eyes blaze with the fire of creative genius and Roy has no doubt he’s onto something. “Yes?”

“Like I was saying before, maybe it’s a place. Maybe whatever was behind the door you found is what this is all about?” Roy looks at him curiously because he really has no basis for his assumptions other than they fit everything they know so far. He considers pointing out the potential holes in his argument, but then holds off. He wants to see what he’s thinking. “They keep calling us sacrifices. Maybe that’s where they want to _sacrifice_ us. The real question is why and…if it involves opening the portal.”

“It’s definitely possible.” Roy reaches his hands back to grip the edge of the desk behind him. “And if the Fuhrer really is involved, the location would make more sense.” But what would they be trying to accomplish? Would it simply be trying to access this “portal” Ed’s talking about? Would it involve the Stone? Ed’s research showed a Stone required an immense amount of life, obviously more than a few powerful alchemists. Not to mention, the homunculus he dealt with already had a Stone. This has to go deeper than that…but how deep?

“I need to go look for answers. Sitting around here in Central isn’t getting us anywhere.” Ed pushes off the couch and brushes his hands on his pants. “Don’t worry, Colonel, I’ll be sure to let you know what I find.” He turns for the door and Roy immediately pushes off the desk.

“Fullmetal, this is no time for you to be traipsing about the country.” Ed scowls but Roy ignores it. They’re only beginning to sort this all out. Until they do, or until they have a better idea of what’s going on, he’d rather have Ed close by, at least for a little while.

“And just what else am I supposed to do?” Ed spins around and adopts his usual defiant stance, arms crossed and feet braced wide apart. “If you remember I’ve been all through Central Library. I know what’s there and there’s nothing about these homunculi or sacrifices or anything. If the military is involved there won’t be. What good is staying around here?”

“You do realize not all resources are confined to the Central libraries?” Ed rolls his eyes and Roy pretends he doesn’t see as he walks back around his desk to pull out a pen and a piece of scrap paper.

“Well, duh. That’s exactly my point, bas—” Ed’s eyes narrow and Roy ignores him in favor of jotting down an address. “You mean secret military resources, don’t you? I knew it. I knew you were hiding things.”

“I mean no such thing, Fullmetal. In fact I don’t know what you’re talking about.” At least that’s what he’s going with for now. Nothing official or unofficial is going to help them now. He holds out the scrap of paper and tilts his head, encouraging Ed to take it. “I’m talking about private collections. Not all resources are in the public or military domain. I think the ones you find here might be quite helpful.”

Ed’s eyes widen and recognition spreads across his features. He stares warily at the piece of paper for a moment, almost as if it might bite him, then snatches it out of Roy’s hand. “So this is the address of someone hoarding priceless information? Nice.” He shakes his head then shoves the paper in his pocket. “So, how do you even know this person will let me into their private collection?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. Just be there at seven o’clock tonight.” Ed turns for the door and Roy calls to him again. “And, Fullmetal, don’t be late. This particular collector doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Ed pulls a face at him then nods. “Alright, alright, Al and I will be there. This just better not be a waste of time.”

“Actually….” Ed pauses with his hand on the doorknob and looks back over his shoulder, obviously annoyed at being stalled again. “Maybe you should go alone. It’s not a large collection and with Alphonse’s particular uniqueness….”

“Yeah, yeah I get it. They might not want him clanking around.” Ed shrugs. “It’d be just one more thing to explain anyway.” He pulls the door open and glances back at Roy once more. “Alright then, I’ll tell him you ordered me to go alone. He’ll probably enjoy spending a little more time with Winry anyway.”

Ed heads out the door and Roy smirks to himself. Ed’s in for quite a surprise tonight, and though he knows he’ll be on the receiving end of his wrath for this, somehow that makes it even more worthwhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> As this was written for au_bigbang, we had the pleasure of working with the wonderful **[Onaxe](http://onaxe.livejournal.com/)**  
>  who created the above artwork illustrating a moment in this chapter. To see the entire art post and to leave comments please go [here](http://onaxe.livejournal.com/9168.html). Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

Stupid Central.

Ed grumbles as he kicks at a rock on the side of the road. Who would’ve ever thought there’d be _two_ streets in the same town with the _same_ damn name? It’s ridiculous. Ed scowls as he turns into the small neighborhood with front yards filled with large trees overhanging the road. It’s a good thing he left early otherwise he’d definitely have been late. As it is he’ll barely make it on time, though it also means he won’t be getting any dinner. Considering he thought he was going to the more affluent neighborhood north of Central Command he’d assumed there’d be plenty of time to grab a quick bite to eat. Turns out he’ll have no such luck. There was a small café a few blocks back, but there’s no time now.

Stupid, stupid Central.

When he’d first looked at the scribbled address all he saw was the name “Columbus” and a number. He was certain he knew the place. It was the one with those huge fancy houses that belong to rich people or those high up the chain of command. It made sense that a special, private library would be in one of those monstrous homes. Ed glances around at the smaller, simpler cottage style homes. They’re a far cry from the large ornate houses on Columbus _Avenue_ , but he’s surprisingly more comfortable here. These homes aren’t the same as the farmhouses out in Resembool, but they have the same feel. He just wishes he’d noticed the tiny scribble at the end of the address was an abbreviation for “Street.” It would’ve saved him a lot of damn time.

He scuffs his boots on the ground then fishes the crumpled address from his pocket. He squints down at the writing, that’s more legible than he’ll ever admit, and nods to himself. House number 298. That’s what he thought. He shoves the paper back in his pocket and looks to the simple one story homes he’s passing for their numbers. 290, 292, he’s almost there. He pays a little more attention to the houses now and sees that most of them on this part of the street are one stories spaced far enough apart so each one doesn’t feel crowded against the next. That’s the strange thing about the larger homes uptown. They always seem to be crammed together. These each have a decent front yard, many with multiple large trees, and if he’s right fairly good sized backyards as well. It’s a contradiction to the usual starkness in Central…and he likes it.

Ed smiles slightly when he catches sight of a neat little two story home he quickly realizes is his destination. It’s narrower than many of the others he’s passed but that’s probably because of its height. As he glances around he realizes another thing about this area, nothing looks exactly the same. From the variation in house style to the large trees in the front yards, it’s obvious this neighborhood must be one of the older ones and was added onto as needed. It’s appealing, particularly since he’s never been one for conformity.

He stops in front of the house and stares up the narrow, well-worn path to the front door. There’s one very large tree to the right that provides shade for much of the front yard. As he makes his way past it he idly wonders how old it is. He’d guess over a hundred years for sure. The front of the house has a small porch complete with a two person swing, a small table, and a single comfortable looking wooden chair. As Ed climbs the single step onto the porch he finds himself easily imagining sitting in either of those places and reading the day away.

He shakes his head and frowns. Where did that idea come from? He doesn’t have time for stupid ideas like that. Chances are depending on what’s in this library, which can’t be very big, he might not ever come back here. Thinking about lazing around on some stranger’s porch is just stupid. For all he knows the owner of this place could be a complete and utter….

“Bastard.”

Ed stares at the open doorway in shock because this is utter shit. He should’ve known this was some sort of set up or game considering how mysterious Mustang was being when he mentioned it. He scowls at the bastard in the doorway and hardly notices the fact he’s out of uniform. He’s too busy being pissed at the smug look on his smiling face as he casually leans against the side of the doorway.

“I see you can be prompt for something after all, Fullmetal.”

“You…you, what the hell are you doing here?!” He fists his hands and he’s about two seconds from storming off the porch, finding Al, and going off to do his own research. He doesn’t need this crap. Is he here to “supervise” him or something? He doesn’t need a damn babysitter, least of all Colonel Shit.

“Well I’d think that would be obvious.” His annoying smile grows and it’s all Ed can do not to ram his fist into his face. “Considering this is my home after all.”

“Your WHAT?!” Ed looks around again and there’s no way. The Colonel’s a stuffy bastard. He should live in one of those obnoxiously large homes or those barracks like apartments. There’s no way he should have a nice, homey place like this. It doesn’t fit! He was actually starting to like this place!

“It’s late, Edward. Please don’t make a scene.” He leans out the doorway and glances around before sighing. “It’s a quiet neighborhood which I’m sure you’ve already noticed.” He glances at the house to his right before locking his eyes on Ed again. “I’d really rather not have to explain to Mrs. DeRamus why a young man was shouting obscenities on my porch.”

Ed just stands and blinks at him because… _what?_ When the hell does the bastard care about anything other than work, much less make nice with his neighbors? It’s only now he actually starts to look at him and notices the plain, partially unbuttoned white shirt, the loose fitting casual pants, the way he doesn’t stand board straight at attention and he doesn’t recognize this man at all. Who is he and what did he do with the bastard Colonel? Why does he care about neighbors or any of this? Ed raises his arm to point at him but before he can utter another word the man who sort of looks like Mustang grabs him by the wrist and pulls him into the house.

“Welcome to my home, Fullmetal. Please try to refrain from breaking anything.”

Now that sounds like the Colonel, insults and all. He fights back a scowl as Mustang moves by him to close the door and he takes the opportunity to look around. He’s standing in a space that apparently acts as a foyer as well as a hallway. To the left of the doorway is a coat rack holding Mustang’s ever present long, black coat and one of his blue military jackets. He wonders how many of those things Mustang actually has. The cap he’s seen some soldiers wear is nowhere to be seen. To the right and a little up the hallway is a small side table with a bowl containing a pair of keys he assumes are for his car. He didn’t see it, but it must be parked outside somewhere, maybe in the small alleyway between houses. There’s a small drawer underneath and he wonders what random things the bastard might fill it with, until he realizes he’s thinking way too much about Mustang’s home life. This is all much too weird for his liking. 

The primarily unadorned foyer leads to a staircase on the left and a narrow hallway to the right. There’s a light on at the end of the hallway and from the slight glimpse he gets he assumes it’s probably the kitchen. Along the way he sees two closed doors, one on either side of the hall, and were he to guess he’d assume one is probably the library and the other a closet from its location under the stairs. It’s all so simple and efficient and nothing he would’ve expected from the Colonel. No picture frames hang from the walls and there isn’t a mirror above the key bowl. He would’ve expected one somewhere with how vain Mustang acts. The starkness of the place should make it feel impersonal, but somehow it doesn’t and it’s really getting under his skin. He sucks in a frustrated breath and realizes there’s a mouthwatering aroma coming from the back of the house and he gets even more confused.

The Flame Alchemist…cooks? Is that even possible? He shakes his head and his stomach rumbles at the scent. He never gave much thought to whether Mustang would cook or not, and why would he? He always assumed someone like him would order out like he and Al do. If he actually does cook, and that delicious smell isn’t some kind of takeout, this just got even more bizarre.

“Well, don’t just stand there and gawk. Wipe your feet and hang up your coat if you like.” And with that Mustang turns and heads down the small hall to the back of the house.

Ed stares stunned at his retreating back until he can’t see him anymore then starts to take off his usual red coat…until he realizes exactly what he’s doing. He stops and shakes his head angrily. This isn’t a social call. Why is Mustang acting like it is? It’s unnerving and…a little creepy. He tugs his coat back into place then follows him down the hall and into a brightly lit kitchen. He makes a point to keep his hands to himself though he’s itching to see what was in that hall table's drawer. 

The kitchen’s fairly simple with a wooden, rectangular table to the right in front of a closed pair of sliding doors and a stove to the left where Mustang stirs something in a skillet. It smells like meat and Ed’s mouth waters despite his annoyance. There’s a door to the backyard straight ahead past the refrigerator and stove. A deep sink sits along the back wall under a couple long, rectangular windows. Plain, wooden pantry cabinets and shelves are on the right wall between the table and the back counters. It’s simple, efficient, and utterly spotless. He’s beginning to think Mustang’s a bit of a neat freak if the little he’s seen is anything to go by.

“If you’re going to join me for dinner, you could at least offer to help, Fullmetal.”

Ed blinks when Mustang doesn’t look up from the meat he’s browning on the stove. He fists his hands and grits his teeth at the comment. He didn’t ask for dinner. All he wants is to get into the library and get out of here. “I’m not hungry. Now if you could bother to show me where the library is?” His words are followed by a loud growl from his traitorous stomach and Mustang turns his head from the stove to arch an eyebrow at him.

“Seems your stomach isn’t in complete agreement.” Mustang smiles and though it’s not really a smirk, Ed counts it as the same thing. “Would it actually kill you to come over and chop a few vegetables?”

Ed holds his ground for a moment as he tries to come up with a reason it would, but none materialize. Instead all he can think of are his mom and Granny telling him not to be a rude house guest and it infuriates him because he’s _not_ Mustang’s house guest! But he is in his house, and he’s obviously not going to let him in the library until he eats, so he might as well help speed this along. “Fine,” he grumbles under his breath as he crosses the kitchen to the back counter to the left of the sink.

There’s a cutting board sitting out and a plate of apparently washed and peeled vegetables. An empty bowl sits next to the cutting board and Ed assumes it’s probably for the cut up pieces. He tugs his gloves off and shoves them in a pocket before scrunching his sleeves up. Now he almost regrets not hanging up his coat in the hallway. He starts by grabbing a carrot and centering it on the board before clapping his hands together to draw a thin, sharper than usual blade from his automail arm. He tests it by trimming off the end of the carrot and smiles to himself. This will work and be much easier than trying to handle a knife with his automail hand.

“I do hope you wash that thing occasionally.”

Ed whips his head around to glare at the bastard, but he’s not even looking so it loses all effect. He scowls and snaps, “Of course I do,” then turns back to the carrot. He’s about to get back to his chopping when he thinks of all the possible things that _could_ be on his automail, the least of which being oil from the gears which he really doesn’t want to eat. He growls under his breath and stomps the few steps over to the sink and uses soap to wash the blade. Stupid Mustang. It’s not like he does this all the time. He can’t even remember the last time he helped cook. Oh, wait. It was in Resembool and Granny expressly forbid him from using an automail knife in the kitchen.

Damn him.

Ed shakes off his dripping wet arm then moves back to the cutting board. His irritation has him literally attacking the carrot, followed by another, and then some celery. By the time he reaches the onion he’s stopped mangling the food and is starting to get into the preparation, taking more and more care with each cut. It’s odd, it’s almost…relaxing. Could this be why the bastard does this instead of eating out?

A sudden sizzling and the pungent scent of garlic has Ed’s stomach growling anew and he looks over to see what Mustang’s doing now. He sets down a small bowl, which probably contained the minced garlic, then stirs it around in the pan. The beef’s gone and Ed figures it must’ve gone into the large, simmering pot on the back burner. Mustang stirs the garlic for another moment then surprises Ed by looking directly at him.

“Do you have the carrots and celery ready?” Ed nods quickly and passes him the bowl of unfortunately mangled vegetables. Mustang doesn’t comment though. He just adds them to the pan and keeps occasionally stirring. Finally he reaches for a small, unmarked glass jar sitting on the counter next to the stove and reaches inside for what looks to be a red powder. But before he adds some he pauses and looks at Ed again. “You don’t happen to like Eastern spice, do you?”

Ed tilts his head at him curiously because the look on Mustang’s face is almost…hopeful? Why should he care what he does or doesn’t like? It’s his meal. “Do what you want, Mustang. Doesn’t matter to me.” Mustang frowns then to Ed’s surprise starts to set the jar aside. Would he really deprive himself for his benefit? He clears his throat and motions to the jar. “No, it’s okay. Resembool’s in the East, remember? We didn’t get a lot of spices from the far East, but we definitely didn’t eat that bland crap some people in Central call food.”

Mustang chuckles and somehow it has a relaxing effect on Ed. He watches as Mustang takes a couple pinches of the spice and sprinkles it over the food before turning back to chop the onions and potatoes. He finishes the onions, which Mustang also adds to the pan, and gets halfway through the potatoes before realizing the effect Mustang’s amusement had on him. He pauses and a frown twists his features. Is he really enjoying spending time with the bastard? He hates to admit it, but deep inside…he kinda is.

Ed shakes his head and quickly finishes the potatoes. He brings the bowl over to the stove just as Mustang’s adding the lightly sautéed vegetables to the simmering pot. Ed’s coarsely chopped potatoes join the mixture then a metal lid goes on and his heart sinks. He’s seen meals like this before and he knows it’ll probably be hours before they get to eat. So much for his rumbling stom—

His eyes widen when Mustang suddenly snaps his gloved right hand. When did he put that on anyway? There’s a spark in the air, a crackle of alchemy, and the edge of the lid and around the rim of the pot glows white hot. An instant later the metal rapidly cools and Ed sees the pot’s been completely sealed. He stares for a moment before he puts it together. The bastard sealed the pot. That should increase the pressure and cook the food faster. But won’t it explode? He leans closer to see what he thought was the lid handle seems to be some type of sealed valve, and is that an alchemic symbol scratched into the metal?

“Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes or so.” Ed tears his eyes away from the modified pot to find Mustang smirking, obviously satisfied with himself.

“Show off. Do you really have to use alchemy for everything?” He’s not so much annoyed by the alchemic display, though he is certain Mustang’s showing off. He’s actually more irritated that he never thought of doing something like this before, not that he had a need to….

“This from the same person who turns their arm into a blade to chop carrots?” Mustang arches an eyebrow and Ed shrugs him off. “I’d be happy to cook the long way, but I assumed you’d like to eat before midnight.”

“Didn’t ask to eat anyway,” he grumbles then shuffles over to one of the kitchen chairs when Mustang makes no move to show him the library. Apparently he’s still his kitchen hostage until dinner. He claps his hands together to return his automail arm to normal and shakes out his sleeves until they cover his arms again. Then he drops down into a chair and slouches down. “So what now, bastard?”

“Now we wait.” Mustang goes over to the sink and picks up an overturned glass sitting on a towel to dry after washing. He also grabs a half empty wine bottle from the corner of the counter then comes back to sit across the table from him. Ed watches as he pulls the cork from the bottle and pours the deeply crimson liquid into the round bottomed glass with a short thick stem and makes a face at him.

“I dunno how you can drink that stuff.” Ed grimaces in the same way he does when milk is mentioned and shakes his head. “It’s disgusting.”

Mustang turns his attention back to Ed as he recorks the bottle with a look of surprise on his face. “Not to your discerning tastes, is it?” Ed can hear the insult in his words and he fists his hands under the table. “Well, that’s probably a good thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” If he’s calling him a child after everything he’s done…. People can’t just treat him like an adult when it suits them! It’s not fair! “If you’re saying—”

“I’m only saying it’s better to abstain from alcohol than to indulge in excess.” His voice is even, conversational, but it still has Ed feeling like he’s patronizing him. “That holds true for people of any age, Fullmetal.”

He stares hard at Mustang as he takes a sip of his wine, but surprisingly there’s no trace of a smirk on his lips. “Fine,” he grumbles and unclenches his hands. “I still don’t get why people do it.” He pauses for a moment then impulsively asks, “So, why do you drink it anyway?” He doesn’t know why he’s asking Mustang of all people, but it is something he’s wondered about considering most alcohol he’s tasted tastes like crap. Plus in different places across the country he’s seen the pathetic mess it can reduce people to in bars. He doesn’t see the point.

“There’s several reasons people drink.” Mustang turns his glass in his hand, staring at the dark liquid before taking a small sip and setting it down. He looks toward him and Ed can feel a lecture coming on, but if it gets him a decent answer he’ll listen, for now. “I’d say one main reason would be liking the taste, just like anything else.”

Ed makes another disgusted face and he ignores the bastard’s low chuckle. “Yeah, if you say so.” He looks away, toward the stove to his right, and tries to will the pot to cook faster. He’s in no mood to be lied to regardless of what it’s about.

“Alright, alright, maybe that’s not the main reason.”

Ed turns his attention back to Mustang curiously. Does that mean he’s going to give him a _real_ answer? People never do that, especially talking to him. They always look at him as a damn child, which he hasn’t been for a long damn time. Well, they do until they need him to do something dangerous, then he’s suddenly all grown up.

“I’d say people drink to relax, to forget, or in some circumstances, to remember.” Mustang turns the thick stem of the glass with his long fingers and Ed watches the glass slowly spin, until he processes his words.

“Okay, that doesn’t make any damn sense.” He scowls at Mustang and crosses his arms, resting them on the table, as he leans forward slightly. “Don’t give me crap, Mustang. How can you forget and remember at the same time?”

Mustang doesn’t answer and Ed thinks he’s not going to. But then he picks up the glass again and swirls the contents around the large, rounded bottom of it. “Sometimes something happens that’s just too hard for someone to deal with.” Mustang turns his eyes from his perusal of the glass and locks them on Ed. His stare’s all too knowing and Ed shifts in his seat when he doesn’t look away. “In those cases, some people choose to drink until they can’t think any more. It doesn’t solve the problem, but for a brief time it can make the situation seem to go away.”

“That’s…stupid,” he says, but at the same time he can understand it. He looks down at his right forearm resting on the table and he doesn’t have to see the gleaming metal to know it’s there. How many times has he woken up from nightmares and wished there was a way to make them stop? How many times has he looked at Al and the grief and guilt was so all encompassing? It’s a destructive act, drinking until you can’t think, but for the first time he understands it a little bit more. He shakes his head then looks across the table again. “So, what about the other? The remembering thing?”

“Ah, yes.” Mustang stares at the glass in his hand, staring at it as if it held some answer then takes another small sip before setting it back on the table. He pulls his hand away from it before answering, but this time he doesn’t look directly at Ed. “Sometimes you may want to remember something that’s difficult and a drink can…make it a little easier.” He stares past Ed now, looking toward the back window and adds in a slightly softer voice, “Like remembering an old friend.”

Ed’s eyes widen because he doesn’t have to guess who he’s referring to. Has he done that? Suddenly Ed catches the difference in his description. This one wasn’t about someone and something. This was more personal. Ed reads the sadness in his eyes and keeps his own voice softer when he answers. “Is that why you do it?”

Mustang flinches suddenly and all traces of actual emotion he thought he saw disappear so completely he has to wonder if he imagined them. His eyes turn toward Ed again and his hand reaches out to tightly grip the base of his glass. He’s sitting up straighter than he was a moment ago and Ed knows this look. This is the bastard Colonel, someone he only now realizes he hasn’t seen since he walked in. That’s when for the first time he realizes that person, that persona he’s always known, is a mask.

“I said no such thing.” He takes a stiff drink from the glass then sets it down a little harder than he has before. “I prefer the third option. To drink to relax.” His hand flexes slightly as he squeezes the glass before releasing it. “A drink with dinner, or with friends, is a nice way to unwind at the end of the day. It’s as simple as that.”

Ed knows it’s far from “as simple as that,” but for once he doesn’t feel like arguing with him. He just saw something he knows he wasn’t meant to and it’s beyond strange. He and Mustang don’t have talks like this. They don’t even like each other. He knew this was a bad idea and he quickly attempts to change the subject. “Well, that’s great and all, but do you have something else to drink?”

“I can get you some water.” Mustang pushes up from the table but Ed jumps to his feet at the same time.

“It’s fine. I can get it.” He doesn’t need the stupid bastard waiting on him. It’s just another layer of crazy and he’s had his fill already. Mustang looks like he’s going to argue, but then he waves him off and sits back down. Good. He can deal with being dismissed. At least that’s _normal_.

Ed turns from the table sharply and looks around the room. Unfortunately, there’s not another glass by the sink which means he needs to find one. He looks around the kitchen to try and figure out where the glasses may be but all he sees are wooden cabinets and he has no intention of searching through them all. But he doesn’t want to ask either. Damn Mustang. Why did have to go and get all weird on him. Ed looks around again and finally notices the shelf above the back window that has four short, fat glasses on it. They’re turned over to keep the dust out, but there’s just one problem. There’s no way he can reach them.

Stupid, stupid Colonel. Who puts glasses up that high anyway? Ed grits his teeth as he makes his way across the kitchen. He stares up at the stupid glasses then jumps up, his arm outstretched, but the damn things are too far back on the shelf. His fingers barely brush them. Ed grits his teeth when he feels his cheeks heat then quickly climbs the counter, his knee on the edge of the sink, and grabs a glass. He hops down just as rapidly and fills the glass in the sink as if it were all a normal thing to do. It’s not his fault the stupid bastard is freakishly tall with stupid glasses on a shelf.

“You realize you could’ve asked for help.”

Ed winces at the words he’d already expected and takes a drink as he stares out the back window. There’s a deck out there and a large open space under several very large trees. Huh, nicer than he expected. “Yeah, well, most people don’t keep their glasses where they can’t be reached.”

“I only do that with the ones I rarely use.”

Ed’s eyes widen at his words and for the first time he looks down at the glass in his hand. He’s seen some of these thick, short glasses in bars before. He turns it around in his hand and for the first time he notices it has writing on it. No, it’s more than writing. It’s the damn seal of the Amestrian military and clearly reads across the bottom: Eastern Military Academy. Great, of all the damn glasses he could’ve picked he picks this one. He stares at it for another moment then shrugs and takes another drink before heading back to the table. “Shouldn’t have them out then if you don’t want them used.”

“Sometimes I really wonder how you’ve lasted as long in the military as you have.”

Ed stops, a pace away from his chair and scowls at the bastard across the table. There’s a smile on his lips and Ed’s tempted to throw the stupid glass against the wall, or at his stupid head. “Well, if you’re just going to insult me you can keep your books.” He slams the glass on the table not caring about the water that sloshes out as he turns sharply for the door. He should’ve left the instant he found out this was the bastard’s house. And to think, he actually thought they were having a _real_ conversation. How could he be so damn dumb?

“ _Fullmetal_.” The tone is sharp, an obvious order, but somehow the usual underlying anger seems to be missing. It’s that fact alone that makes him stop and look back at him. Mustang’s still sitting at the table, but he’s turned sideways in his chair with his hand braced on the table as if he were about to jump out of his seat and follow him. “It wasn’t meant as an insult. If you’d sit down,” he motions to the chair Ed was sitting in. “I’ll be more than happy to explain.”

He’s skeptical, and why wouldn’t he be? This is the manipulative bastard after all. He knows better than anyone how he likes to play games. He does it to him all the time. But then he remembers the conversation from before, how open it seemed and he supposes he can at least hear him out. But he’s not sitting down. Instead he walks over, stands behind the chair, and crosses his arms. “Fine. Talk.”

Mustang lets out a long, obviously irritated sigh but he doesn’t make any more demands. Instead he turns forward in his chair again and folds his hands on the table. “What I was trying to say was people like you, Edward, don’t often last in the military.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment. Guess your sorry ass shouldn’t have recruited me then, huh?” He turns for the door again but before he can get more than a step Mustang starts talking again.

“Headstrong, independent people who are happy to forge their own way in the world usually don’t apply.” Ed pauses because that doesn’t exactly sound like an insult, yet. “That’s hard to do in the military. The military’s for those looking for a purpose and who are happy to find someone willing to give them one instead of finding it on their own.” Ed turns his head slowly to look at him again and he doesn’t find a trace of smugness or deceit on his face. “The military’s a strong willed entity of its own. Not many already with strong wills bend gracefully to its demands. They end up broken by the system or quitting in frustration.”

It almost sounds like a compliment could be buried in there somewhere. But why would it be? Mustang would never compliment him. “So what’s your point? That it’s just a matter of time before I break?”

“Maybe.” Ed flinches at his answer but he doesn’t walk away. He wants to know where he’s going with this. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. As you know the military can be a great resource. You just aren’t using it to its full potential.”

“You mean like you.” Ed turns to face him again and some of what he’s saying becomes a little more clear. “You’re talking from experience, aren’t you.”

A sly smile slides across Mustang’s face but for the first time he feels like he’s in on the joke instead of being the butt of it. “The main difference between you and I is I know when to follow orders without making a fuss. I also know I’m not alone in the world. When you realize that, things might be a little easier for you.” And with that Roy pushes out of his chair and crosses over to the stove. He doesn’t see what he does, because he’s still thinking about what he said, but a moment later he feels the tingle of alchemy and hears the sound of releasing steam.

He’s still not completely sure what Mustang was getting at, but he doesn’t seem to be inclined to continue the conversation. Instead he’s busying himself with pulling out bowls and silverware and Ed shakes his head and slides back into his chair. Why does the bastard have to talk in riddles? He’s already using the military. It’s why he _joined_ the stupid military. It’s not like he wants to be doing this. So what if he pisses people off? He doesn’t need them. He’s more than capable of doing everything on his own.

A bowl being sat down in front of him pulls him out of his thoughts and he looks up as Mustang moves around the table to sit across from him again. Why does he even care what he does? He considers asking him directly, but then the mouthwatering aroma from the bowl in front of him hits his nose and he can’t think about anything else but devouring the stew. It’s hot, in temperature and spice, but he hardly cares until it sends him refilling his glass of water. However, that only stalls him briefly, as does refilling the bowl when it’s empty. But soon enough his stomach stops dominating his mind and he finds Mustang staring at him and smiling. “What? Never seen anyone eat before?”

“No.” That stupid smile remains on his face and Ed sighs loudly as he waits for him to continue. “You’re just proving a point of mine is all.”

Ed rolls his eyes dramatically and replies in his most sarcastic voice. “And what point would that be?”

“That you are capable of accomplishing something by working with someone other than your brother.” He smiles at him again then reaches for his glass to take a drink and Ed can only stare in confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about now? Do you always have to be such an ass?” He tries to wipe that stupid smile off his face with an insult but if anything it makes it grow. It’s annoying and the only reason he hasn’t knocked it off his face is because it doesn’t seem nearly as mocking as it usually does. Or maybe he’s just going nuts from all the Mustang weirdness lately.

“All I’m saying is you worked with me on the stew and it was delicious.” He tilts his head in a way that makes it obvious he’s expecting agreement. “Is it that difficult for you to accept a compliment?”

“Not when I know there’s an ulterior motive to it.” Ed looks down and inhales the last few spoonfuls of his meal. He hates to admit it, and he won’t out loud, but he’s right. It is good. But he still doesn’t see what it has to do with anything.

“I guess there’s no getting anything past you, now is there?” Now it’s Ed’s turn to look at him like he’s stupid, but instead of getting angry Mustang just laughs. “Edward, I told you this in the hospital and I want you to listen to me now. Everything you’re trying to do, everything you want to accomplish, you don’t need to do it alone. We’re all in this together whether you realize it or not.””

“This again?” Ed shakes his head and pushes back from the table a little bit. He rocks back in his chair and crosses his arms, defiance in every ounce of his being. “I told you before. Al and I aren’t going to let anyone else get hurt because of us. This is our mission. No one else’s. The rest of you just need to butt out.”

“Is that really what you think?”

Ed’s forehead creases in a frown because the way Mustang says that it sounds like he’s hiding something. He stares at him, but as usual he gives nothing away. So much for the bastard letting his guard down. “Yeah. It is. So what? You gonna try and talk me out of it now?”

“No.” Ed blinks in surprise, but before he can answer Mustang leans forward against the table and continues. “But what if I were to tell you that you’ve never been as alone as you think you are, even from the very beginning?”

“I…what?” Ed scowls deeply. He’s sick of all these games. Mustang can either say what he means or drop it. It’s that simple. “Get on with it or I’m out of here, nice dinner or not.”

Mustang smiles slightly, probably at the compliment to his food, but Ed has to give him credit. It was a lot better than he expected, not that it means he’s ready to trust him now or anything.

“Do you remember the day we first met?”

What kind of a stupid question is that? Of course he remembers. All the asshole did was yell at him when he just wanted to be left alone. “Of course I do. What’s your damn point?”

“Do you really think I left there and didn’t think about you again until you showed up demanding to take the State licensing exam?” Mustang pauses, probably for effect but Ed doesn’t care. What does any of this matter anyway? He shoots him a bored look that doesn’t faze Mustang at all. “I’ve been part of this from the start. Did you not ever wonder why I already had so many leads for you to chase down as soon as you were under my command? I spent half a year digging those up.”

“What do you want me to do, say thank you?” Ed shrugs at him and does his best to look unimpressed because it’s not like any of those leads worked out. He’s still no closer to getting Al’s body back than he was before.

“I want you to realize you wouldn’t even be here were it not for me.”

“That’s bullshit!” Ed nearly turns over his chair in his haste to get to his feet. He slams his hands on the table and leans forward, right in the arrogant bastard’s face. “I got where I am because I worked my ass off. I had a goal and I was _not_ going to fail!” Mustang doesn’t pull back. He hardly even bats an eye and it infuriates Ed to no end.

“And just where did you get that goal?”

The smug arrogance of his tone has Ed pulling back and shaking his head violently. No, no way is he letting him take credit for this. No way. “That’s shit. You’re just a pompous, arrogant jackass who wants to take credit for everything. I don’t owe you anything!”

“I didn’t say you did, Edward.” Mustang pulls back slightly and surprisingly keeps his voice at an even tone. Why isn’t he raising his voice? It’s unnerving. “But how long would you have languished in Resembool if I hadn’t found you? Would you have pushed yourself so hard with your automail if you didn’t know a State Alchemist’s license was waiting for you?” Mustang sits back in his chair and Ed tries to block out his words because they aren’t true. They aren’t.

“You’re right. You did work your way here all on your own. You did things no one else has ever done before and probably never will again. I give you full credit for that.” Ed searches Mustang’s face for any trace of manipulation or lies and he can’t find any. But there has to be. There just has to be. “All I’m saying is that I helped give you a goal. That’s all. And I’ve continued to do that all these years. You aren’t in this alone, Edward. You never have been.”

Ed takes a step back and then another because he needs space. He needs room to think. Is this all some grand manipulation to try and get him back on Mustang’s side? He looks over at him sitting calmly at the table and he knows without a doubt it could be. There’s really no way to tell. He knows Mustang’s discovery of him and his being brought under his command has helped his career.

But what about all the messes he’s made? Those couldn’t have helped. Yet still, here he is saying he wants to help. Is it all crap?

He may never really know.

He’d like to storm out and forget this damn conversation ever happened, but he finds he can’t even take a step toward the door. It’s the damn truths in what he’s said that are killing him. Ever since he decided to get his automail and walk this path he’s been certain it was all his own doing. But was it? Would he have considered joining the military and becoming its dog unless Mustang was there cramming down his throat the benefits it could bring? He can’t be sure and that alone is killing him. It puts his whole world in doubt.

He looks over to see Mustang’s face has softened from the usual commanding mask he wears. In this moment he can almost pretend he’s not the hardass officer he knows he is. They’ve always hated each other, or at least he thought they did. But when he thinks back he has helped send him in the right directions. Now they know about the Stone and the homunculi and so much more he doubts he’d have ever found out without the military. Fucking bastard. Why does he have to be…right?

“I still don’t trust you.” He growls out, but with much less venom than before. He doesn’t like this, but he’s a scientist. He can’t just ignore facts even though he doesn’t like them. This really, really sucks.

“You don’t have to. Not yet at least.” Mustang scoots his chair back and stands smoothly. “I’ll settle for a mutual understanding at this point. Can we do that?”

He doesn’t like it. He and Al decided not to bring anyone else into this, but does that still count if they’re already a part of it? Mustang did have a point in the hospital. With his own agenda, he’d have run into the homunculi sooner or later especially if they’re high up the command chain. He may hate this, but Mustang at least is already involved. “Yeah, I guess so. But I’m still not letting anyone else get hurt.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Mustang clears the dishes off the table and puts them in the sink. Then he turns to Ed and motions toward the doorway. “Now, I believe we have some work to do?”

Ed nods and follows after him, but he’s still conflicted. It’s going to take a while to wrap his mind around the fact that he and Mustang actually _are_ on the same side. He considers asking him why he didn’t tell him these things before, why he had to be such an ass all these years, but deep inside he already knows the answer. He never would’ve listened. Shit, if Mustang had tried to take credit for any part of what he’d done he’d have _run_ the other way. But it’s different now. They have a common enemy. Hopefully they’ll be able to find a way to fight them and get what they all need…together.


End file.
